Now that spring is here with warmer weather, our long overdue “do to” list is underway. You know the usual stuff, raking the mountains dead leaves that have wintered in every nook and cranny around the house, getting the gardens ready for tomatoes, peppers and this year potatoes. Another item on our “to do” list is to stain the outside window trim. The trim has been looking especially shabby and weathered, so I decided to go with a darker stain around the windows for be a fresh new look. New stain meant a trip to the home improvement store and shopping for the perfect color, one of my favorite things to do and one that makes Mitch crazy. As I was perusing the colors trying to decide which one would be the right choice, Mitch stood there looking like he’d just passed a kidney stone.

I wasn’t sure how much we would need, so just to be on the safe side I bought four gallons. We have twenty three windows of which six require an extension ladder to be used to get to; the rest can be done with just a six foot stepladder. I am not fond of heights; in fact one could say I am almost terrified of heights. The height is not the real fear it’s the fear of falling off the ladder that is the scariest part of climbing a ladder. I started with the easiest windows first leaving hardest for last. Climbing up the step ladder, reaching what I could, repositioning the ladder and repeating the process went very well for the back side of the house. I moved around to the kitchen side of the house and kept up the momentum of the morning, everything going very well, too well I should have known.

I had just finished staining the trim around the kitchen door and carried the can of stain, paintbrush and the hand broom I used to whisk away spider webs around to the front of the house. I came back, grabbed the stepladder, closed it for easier carrying and stepped off of the porch to carry the stepladder down the hill and around to the front of the house. I’m not sure what exactly happened, but the next thing I remember was taking a header off the porch and doing a somersault across the yard with the ladder. I sat up looked at my right arm which had a big chunk of flesh gone and was bleeding. The right leg of my jeans was ripped and my shin had a two inch long scrape down it. It didn’t take very long for the bruises to show up, they formed quite quickly in fact. There are three dark ones on my forearm and a really spectacular six inch bruise on my shin. I thought that the most dangerous part would be climbing up eighteen feet or so on the extension ladder and leaning out to reach as far as I could to stain the trim on the front of the house. I had no idea just carrying the stepladder would be my downfall.

Mitch has dubbed me “Dances with Ladders”.